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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25630090">dream of what i need</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/inattention/pseuds/inattention'>inattention</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sex Toys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:49:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25630090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/inattention/pseuds/inattention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks oh but he’s so broad, he covers me up so nicely. He thinks sjjsnsjdjsbwkshd because then he’s not thinking at all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>307</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dream of what i need</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Osamu comes out of their bedroom, wearing only his favorite pajama pants – the ones with the foxes on it. Suna-san gave it to him on his last birthday, and he’d responded by nearly laughing a lung out. “What are we watchin’ tonight?”</p><p>“It’s on the last season of How I Met Your Mother.”</p><p>“Ah, Robin and Barney’s weddin’,” he mutters, slipping easily beside him on their sofa. Keiji rests his head on Osamu’s chest with a small smile. “Can we skip the last episode?”</p><p>“If you’d like.” Keiji feels the thump thump thump of Osamu’s heart, the steady up and down rhythm of his breathing.</p><p>“’Course I do, that finale fuckin’ sucks.”</p><p>There’s little in this world that Keiji loves more than Miya Osamu – his darling, lovely boy, the absolute apple of his eye, his favorite person (all of these sentiments that he’d rather die than say aloud) – and it was apparent.</p><p>After all, there were very few that Keiji feels the sweltering need to get on his knees for and blow them on any given point in time while simultaneously wanting to wake up beside them and adopt three kids and maybe a dog together. He’s always been much too cautious to entrust too much of himself to someone who doesn’t deserve to own it.</p><p>Osamu’s been his boyfriend for almost six months now, following the match against the MSBYs Black Jackals and the Adlers that ended with his number in Keiji’s back pocket. After that it was a series of dates – all of which were quaint and charming, just how he liked it – and soon enough, they were going steady.</p><p>And he was perfect. Keiji’s biased, yes, but he’s watched Osamu come to terms with their relationship in the same patient manner he adopts in front of a chopping board – he’s worked hard to know just what to say and has learned enough about him to hold Keiji’s heart in his calloused palms with care.</p><p>It had been easy, far too easy, for their lives to overlap and mold together; Osamu does it with an ease that’s so unfamiliar to Keiji, who’s more used to second guessing himself in his private affairs, and then he remembers this man has lived with the whirlwind that is Miya Atsumu for most of his life and then he understands.</p><p>Osamu learns how to accommodate for the people he cares about – stencils out their roles, recognizes their needs, builds himself around them.</p><p>Oh, God. He <em>is</em> perfect, Keiji thinks, suddenly, and then, <em>oh God, I love him.</em> Which is a grand realization to have when it’s Friday night and you’re both a little out of it, wrung dry from the hours before, so he leans forward so he can press a kiss into his boyfriend’s jaw.</p><p>“What was that for?” Osamu asks mildly, sparing him a glance. He’s smiling a little, but his eyes, droopy, are otherwise taken in by the television.</p><p>“Nothing. I just love you.”</p><p>The smile he receives in return is endearing. “I love you too, baby doll.”</p><p>That pet name reminds him too much of lazy Sunday mornings spent on his knees for him to stay still. <em>Yer so goddamn pretty, baby doll, goddamn</em> <em>it</em>, with his fingers curled tight in Keiji’s hair as he held his mouth open for Osamu to fuck into. <em>Take it, you take everythin’ I give ya, y’hear me?</em></p><p>Keiji slips into Osamu’s lap, then. He’s only wearing an oversized shirt tonight, one that slips past his knees, and a pair of boxers that he pulls off and throws somewhere on the carpet. It’d been a bad day at work today – he’d spent his break having a breakdown in a toilet stall – so as soon as he’d come home, he’d edged himself near silly with his favorite dildo on the foot of their bed, glasses pushed messily to the top of his head, barely out of the clothes he’d worn to work. It’d taken nearly two hours for Osamu to come home and all Keiji did for that period of time was tease himself nearly to the point of orgasm and then force himself out of it, nearly sobbing with the effort it took not to come.</p><p>When he received Osamu’s text saying that he was on the way home, he’d cleaned himself up the best he could and dressed himself. He’d squirmed through dinner with a butt plug on, breathless and flushed, and tried his very best to act mostly normal, but he knew Osamu noticed, because he always did.</p><p>But he was still choosing to mind the episode even as his hand snakes to Keiji’s dick. He pumps it and Keiji shallowly thrusts into his hand as he continues to make eye contact with Osamu who’s breathing hard and still holding his gaze as he pants harshly, already pent up from his solo session earlier, hips moving faster and faster in time with Osamu’s hand, seeking more contact.</p><p>Like that, he comes, splattering all over Osamu’s broad chest as he hiccups, leaning forward to get more physical contact. His boyfriend’s ministrations on his dick don’t stop, but he does rub his back with the other hand soothingly as Keiji shakes through his orgasm.</p><p>“Hush, baby, m’right here.”</p><p>“Fuck me,” Keiji whines, his usually composed voice taking on a more breathless pitch as the haze of his orgasm muddles with his thoughts. “Fuck me, fuck me, please.”</p><p>“Okay, alright, calm down, sweetheart,” Osamu soothes, gripping one ass cheek in his large hand. “Be patient.”</p><p>“Samu,” Keiji complains. He never begs. That’s just not something he does. But lately Osamu’s been looking at him like he wants to ruin him, wants to see him lose his self-control—sometimes he looks at Keiji like he’s hungry, like he’d be more than happy to eat him alive.</p><p>Even now, the way he reacts to Keiji is dark and wicked—in its own slow, patient way. Osamu has patience in spades, and he spots it on the corner of the blunted down edges of his grin.</p><p>Much like Keiji, he’s always made sure to package himself in a way that was made it easier for people to consume, but when he looks at Keiji in bed, when they’re alone, when their limbs are close and their breathing ragged, is dangerous in a way Keiji never sees in any other situation.</p><p><em>Do you want to take all of me?</em> He wants to ask sometimes, when he catches Osamu’s gaze. <em>Because I’d let you. I’d let you take all I have.</em></p><p>“Don’t be a brat,” Osamu admonishes with a little laugh. Keiji only clicks his tongue.</p><p>“Are you gonna fuck me or not?”</p><p>Osamu’s grin sharpens. He’s so vivid now, illuminated only by the faint light for the TV, the hours of the day wearing down on his face. But god. Isn’t he gorgeous? Aren’t you just so gorgeous?</p><p>“I like that yer dirty with me,” he admits, hauling Keiji closer to his broad chest. “I like that ya curse and ya complain until I have to shut ya up with my dick down your throat.”</p><p>Up close, he can see everything—from the fondness in Osamu’s usually hooded, sluggish eyes, how the person who’d worked hard to be aggressively neutral is so open about the things he loves and treasures.</p><p>It is a nice thought. Osamu thinks he’s lovely. Osamu treasures him.</p><p>Keiji’s a writer: he’s familiar with overused clichés and tiring metaphors, but god if his boyfriend isn’t absolutely perfect.</p><p>Hoarse, he asks, “What else do you like?”</p><p>Osamu smiles knowingly, his hand moving to rest at the small of Keiji’s back—the static on his skin where Osamu touches enough to make him jerk a little—and there’s a heated silence.</p><p>“I like that yer so easy for me. All I have to do is touch ya, and ya get like this.”</p><p>Keiji frowns. “What if I’m just an easy lover in general?”</p><p>A comment like that should reap irritation, Keiji knows, but Osamu’s eyes only grow red hot like the coal in a hearth for a quick moment before subsiding. He leans back on the sofa, the movement jostling Keiji forward as well. He shrugs, casual, lazy. Confident.</p><p>Keiji licks his lips. Suddenly he understands what must be fueling Osamu’s hunger.</p><p><em>Your control,</em> he thinks, <em>I want it to crack. I want to have you until it breaks. I want it to be mine to keep—something nobody else has ever taken from you.</em></p><p>“Are ya?” Osamu asks, then. His hand is still searing. “With anyone else, are ya like this?”</p><p>Keiji cups his face in his hands and pushes their foreheads together. Thinks <em>how could I have been so lucky.</em> Thinks <em>this man thinks I'm pretty.</em> Thinks <em>this man loves me, too.</em></p><p>“No,” he tells him what he already knows, earnest. Then, because he knows how to pull Osamu’s strings too, he says, “But I’m really irritated that you’re drawing this out.”</p><p>“You’ve been waitin’, huh.”</p><p>“Hm,” Keiji bobs his head. “You’ve kept me waiting.”</p><p>“M’sorry baby, let me make it up to you.” As he says this, Osamu reaches over to a drawer by the sofa and pulls out a bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount on his hand.</p><p>It’s then that long fingers probe at his hole; there’s a surprised hum as Osamu discovers the butt plug, and he presses his lips against Keiji’s neck when he does, a pleased little sound.</p><p>“Yer the perfect little slut,” he whispers and the sound goes straight to Keiji's dick. “I’ll take real good care of you, sweetheart, I promise.”</p><p>He pushes his face into Osamu’s neck, breathing turning rough when he feels fingers probe at the butt plug, trying to coax it out. “You better.”</p><p>There’s a wet <em>plop</em> that he knows means the butt plug has been removed, but there’s not much of a break because then Osamu starts to work him open in little circles as though to test the waters. It makes him twitch and flush in embarrassment.</p><p>“Baby,” he whispers against the crook of Osamu's shoulder, “Baby, I love you so much.”</p><p>Everything is hot, too hot. This is often what happens around Osamu. He should already be used to it, but instead he’s burning up – his touch on Keiji’s skin still aches in the best way. He grinds his crotch against Osamu’s in a desperate plea for more attention, but his boyfriend takes his time.</p><p>The buttplug is pulled out, and held in one hand as his fingers search Keiji’s hole, already stimulated and aching from the two hours of edging that he’d subjected himself to along with the time it took to cook and eat dinner.</p><p>“Can you take it, baby?”</p><p>“Yes,” Keiji pulls his pelvis upwards, wiggling a little as an invitation, and Osamu concedes, slipping his finger in up to the knuckle, making Keiji make another incomprehensible high pitched noise as he pushes down on it. “Another one, baby, another one.”</p><p>He shifts, and Osamu obeys, pumping the two fingers through his entrance with experience. Keiji lets his body follow through the motions, and then—</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>,” he says, fire spreading through his veins as he hits his prostate. Osamu smirks at him and pulls him into a kiss, his hips jutting into Keiji’s crotch. It’s messy, and Osamu’s fingers are tangled deep into his hair, and god, Keiji loves it like this.</p><p>Miya Osamu is good. He’s always been good.</p><p>He doesn’t put up much of a fight as he gets manhandled into a more pliant position – Osamu lifts him up (god bless boyfriends with muscles) and Keiji scrambles to pull down his boyfriend’s pajama pants. He looks down, hands grabbing onto Osamu’s shoulders, and feels his body go pliant at the sight – Osamu is big. Not unbearably so, but he does have girth to spare. Oh Lord. He sounds like a bad erotica.</p><p>Osamu grabs his cock with one hand as the other one stays on Keiji’s hip, helping steady him as he sinks down onto his length. Once he’s pressed down to the hilt, he presses a kiss on Keiji’s shoulder and sucks, for sure leaving a hickey in the morning, grabbing fistfuls of Keiji’s ass as he gyrates his hips deeper, seeking more and more contact, bottoming out inside him.</p><p>“<em>Move</em>, move faster, <em>fuck</em>,” Keiji demands, gritting his teeth.</p><p>He knows it does something to Osamu when he curses so he’s not entirely surprised when he thrusts upwards, hands still gripping tightly into his waist, but his breath still hitches and dissolves into a winded whimper.</p><p>There’s nowhere else to go, so he takes it, keening, nails scrambling to find purchase on Osamu’s back as he gets fucked into oblivion.</p><p>“Baby,” he gasps. “Fuck, baby. Yeah. Yeah, just like that.”</p><p>“Yer takin’ me so good, Keiji,” is all Osamu says. A wet heat surrounds Keiji’s dick again, every calculated flick of his wrist causing an arresting amount of pleasure to surge through his being like a typhoon, pulling him under.</p><p>He gasps and bites into Osamu’s shoulder as he bucks his hips, pulling himself upwards towards the source of stimulation and then pushing himself against Osamu’s cock. It’s too much and not enough. He wants to let go.</p><p>“Osamu,” he keens, trembling, “I—baby, I’m—”</p><p>He cries out, all his nerve endings put to light; there’s a choked gasp and then he comes for the second time tonight.</p><p>Osamu slows down, bucking his hips shallowly as he waits for Keiji to calm down. Keiji has always been relatively pliant in bed – <em>so goddamn hot, darlin’,</em> Osamu always swears, <em>yer so pretty, all for me, right, love?</em> – but his boyfriend also knows that he likes being pushed and pushed and then pushed even further still.</p><p>He’s still shaking when Osamu wrangles him on the couch, pushes him face down to the fabric, his leaking cock rubbing against the sofa as his knees provide support and he breathes shallowly, watching the way his own cock bobs beneath him, leaking precum. He feels tired, and empty, somehow, but he also feels greedy, desperate to take everything Osamu can offer him even when he already has so much.</p><p>Experimentally, Keiji pushes back into him, causing Osamu to growl in warning and slap his ass once but sharply; he chokes at the sting and his knees give out.</p><p>He thinks <em>oh God, what am I gonna do with this sofa tomorrow</em>. He thinks <em>oh but he’s so broad, he covers me up so nicely.</em> He thinks <em>sjjsnsjdjsbwkshd</em> because then he’s not thinking at all. He’s tired, so so tired, but his blood runs hot anyway.</p><p>Osamu leans forward to press a kiss to Keiji’s shoulder as he asks, gently, “Ya want me to stop, love? Just give me the word.”</p><p>“No,” he says.</p><p>“Water? Snacks? We can take a breather, if ya want.”</p><p>“No,” he repeats, and then more resolutely, “no, baby, use me to come, use me as many times as you want, make me <em>cry</em>.”</p><p>“Fuck, yer so fucking hot,” Osamu groans at his words before pulling him up by the waist and fucking into him, letting out a little stuttering breath as he does, and then he braces himself over him, his hands reaching over to the sofa fabric and holding it in his hands. “So hot, pumpkin, getting off of bein’ my cocksleeve.”</p><p>There’s not much to base off of when it comes to size difference. They’re still around the same height, with Osamu a few inches taller, but that makes all the difference with the way his shoulders are built. Osamu lets himself drape over him, covering him the way he likes, and then he thrusts in shallowly as his hand goes to Keiji’s dick, already limp in his grasp.</p><p>“Baby?” he whispers.</p><p>“Yeah,” Keiji replies, “that’s fine. Make it hurt.”</p><p>Because he loves it like this. Loves being pushed until he can no longer think, until all is quiet and all that he knows is the throes of pleasure so he pushes back when Osamu’s hips drive forward.</p><p>Keiji feels Osamu’s teeth on his shoulder, biting, as he drives even deeper, and it makes him keen, squirming, not sure if he wants to get away or get more; Osamu makes the decision for him, keeping him still as Osamu mounts him, his body covering Keiji’s in the delicious way that he loves. His dick is still being stimulated and that coupled with the slow, steady thrusting to his ass is enough to make him gasp out and cry. </p><p>Osamu is the only thing in his mind as he sniffles and whines, body going slack in submission. “Love you,” he babbles, “love you, baby. You’re so good to me, too good.”</p><p>“I love you, too,” Osamu tells him. Repeats it, as he ruts into him like a fleshlight, using him to get off, and boy does it him good. He screws his eyes shut, letting out little hiccups as Osamu’s dick slides inside out of him, slow and steady and teasing. “God, no one’s ever gonna compare to ya. Can’t fuckin’ believe yer all mine, <em>fuck</em>, no one’s ever gonna come close.”</p><p>And maybe Keiji likes it, he likes that Osamu sees him as this infinitely pretty, lovely thing, that he’s so important to him. It makes him feel like he is, and he knows this, but it feels great either way – to hear it from Osamu, who’s passionate and brash and feels the same about him.</p><p>“Come, baby,” Keiji encourages, even with big fat tears trailing down his cheeks, and he knows Osamu is thinking it, he knows all that’s in his mind right now is <em>pretty pretty pretty</em> and it spurs him on, too, in ways he doesn’t expect, “fill me up. Make me yours—I’m your pretty baby. Only yours.”</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>Osamu comes like that, and Keiji is surprised to find that it triggers his own, though it’s weak. His hips stutter and he lets out a low cry. At this point Keiji’s full on sobbing, overwhelmed, and Osamu sweeps him up in his arms, whispering affirmations and kissing him all over with the fondest look in his eyes.</p><p>“M’gonna get you some water, baby, alright? I’ll be right back, don’t worry.”</p><p>“You’re the best,” Keiji manages in the middle of his sniffles, “you’re my favorite person. You’re perfect.”</p><p>Osamu doesn’t reply, but the way he pushes back Keiji’s bangs to press a kiss to his forehead is answer enough.</p><p>
  <em>You are, too. </em>
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